The Edge of the Dark
by Beth Weasley Snape
Summary: After the horrific death of Hermione Granger's husband, Matthew, everything seems to fall apart. One thing after another sends Hermione into a spiralling depression that could mean losing her daughter, Grace, forever. Can she prove to the Ministry that she is a fit parent? Can she complete the tasks and stick to the deadlines? Or will she need help from a handsome, Slytherin enemy?
1. Chapter 1

Darkness. It was the only way he could describe it. It wasn't the kind of darkness that sooner or later your eyes would adjust to, it was the kind of darkness that you knew you were trapped in. The kind of darkness that you knew somewhere someone was watching you, waiting, biding their time for the right moment to strike. It was _that_ kind of darkness.

* * *

She could feel the sun beaming down on her, blanketing her arms, caressing her neck, adding to the warm, healthy glow of her pregnancy. She groaned and rubbed some more suntan lotion over her limbs, struggling to reach her legs over her large, swollen belly.

"I'll get that, sweetheart. You sit back in your chair and I'll put it on you," her husband called, rushing over to help her.

She smiled and relaxed, feeling his careful hands rubbing the lotion into her shoulders, massaging them as he went. She let out a sigh of contentment. It was a rare moment, this one. He was home for six weeks, three of which were already gone, the sun was shining and for the first time since their wedding, she had a feeling of tranquillity. For in that moment, all of her worries, her fears, disappeared and she was happy, peaceful, excited.

"Thank you," she muttered, enjoying the sensation of his hands soothing her aching muscles.

She was four days past her due date, sore, grumpy and downright pissed off at the ignorance of her baby, refusing to exit the little cosy home it's mother had made for it.

"I was thinking maybe we could go out for dinner tonight, that is if you're feeling up to it. I know you haven't had much energy recently, and no wonder, with that big bump," he laughed, rubbing his wife's large stomach.

"Maybe," she mulled it over. "If I feel better tonight then yes, it would be lovely," she smiled at him.

"Great. How about I help you inside, you look like you're getting a little too warm and some shade would do you good. Can't have the mother of my unborn baby getting sunstroke, now, can I?"

She struggled to her feet, his arm supporting hers. "I think I'm going to sleep. I'm completely exhausted," she admitted.

They hobbled along the path towards the back door, slowly so as not to put her under any pressure, her leaning heavily on him.

"Matthew," she grunted, stopping abruptly.

But no more needed to be said. Water splashed around their feet, soaking both of their legs slightly. It was time.

* * *

"Promise you'll stay safe?" she whispered into his ear, trying not to let her voice crack.

"Of course I will, 'Mione. I need to so I can come home and see my beautiful wife and my gorgeous daughter for Christmas," he laughed with a sly smile.

"You're coming home for Christmas?!" she exclaimed, laughing and throwing a free arm around him.

"The boss said I can since I've got a newborn baby at home now," he grinned.

"Oh Matthew, that's wonderful, I can't wait," she sniffed, her eyes shining.

"Me either, Hermione. I'm going to go before those tears spill over or I won't go at all. I love you so much, sweetheart. It won't be long now," he pressed his lips against her forehead, then bent his head and kissed his daughter's forehead.

Hermione held on to her little girl, waving at her husband as he went. This time, waving him off felt different, more uneasy. She didn't know why, but she was afraid to find out.

* * *

"Why is she crying? Ginny? Ginny, what have I done?"

Harry Potter sat adjacent from his Goddaughter, brow furrowed, chewing his thumbnail. His glasses were askew, his shirt covered in baby food and his hair plastered to his head with sweat.

"You haven't done anything, Harry, she's a baby. Babies cry, it's what they do," Ginny snapped. "You've asked me that a million times now. The answer won't change. Just pick her up and hold her and she'll soon calm down, okay?"

"Alright. Alright, I can do this," Harry muttered under his breath, unclipping the baby from her chair. "Hello Gracie," he cooed. "Why don't we stop this silly crying and eat some yummy peaches? Yum yum," he smiled, bouncing the baby.

"Yum yum," Ginny snorted. Brilliant, Harry."

He glared. "Ginny, I am doing my best to keep this little one amused," he said, keeping his tone light so as not to upset Grace further. "If you can do any better then come and help rather than sitting there with your feet up and drinking green tea. It'll be good practice for when our little one comes along," he smirked, looking pointedly at Ginny's utterly flat belly.

"Harry, be quiet," Ginny growled. "I don't want anyone hearing that, do you understand?"

"Why not?" he asked softly, propping Grace up in his lap. "Everyone would be so pleased and God knows we could use a little happiness around here nowadays, given the situation.

"We're not telling anyone until the second trimester, Harry. You _know_ telling anyone before the fourth month is bad luck, plus Hermione is going through a lot right now. She needs all the attention and support, not us. She lost her husband for heaven's sake."

Harry looked down and Grace who had stopped crying and was now reaching out her chubby little arms to touch the Christmas tree. He loosened his grip and allowed her to crawl over and touch the shiny baubles that were swinging from the lowest branches.

"And so close to Christmas, too," Ginny said softly, looking towards the closed living room door, through which she could hear partially what Hermione was saying to her husband's boss.

"You know, Matthew was supposed to be home for Christmas this year. Since it was Grace's first one," Harry said, making the little reindeer decorations gallop towards Grace, her tinkling laugh the only bright sound in the house.

Ginny said nothing. Instead, she looked sadly towards the seven month old baby who had no idea what was going on, the innocence and the ignorance an early Christmas gift.


	2. Chapter 2

Christmas' came and went, as did Grace's first, second and third birthday and with each day, things just seemed to get worse. Hermione picked her way through the rubbish littering her carpet to make her way to the dusty, burned sofa. Her house had not been decorated since the last time she and Matthew had done it together and it was in desperate need of an update but the thought of getting rid of the things she had shared with the man she loved was more heartbreaking than living in the filth it had become.

Hermione sat down in the same old seat she used to and undone the cap of her bottle. Tucking it inside her cardigan to block the view from her daughter, she lifted it gingerly and took a swig. That seemed to be all she done nowadays. Ate, slept, drank, smoked. It was her routine. And she was past the point of caring.

"Grace, look at the mess you're making! For heaven's sake, I'm the mug that has to clean it all up after you," she huffed, picking up some of the old, wrecked dolls her daughter had discarded so carelessly.

"Sorry, mummy," Grace pouted, looking up at Hermione with the eyes that resembled her own so much.

Hermione sighed, feeling her anger disappear as fast as it had come. "It's okay angel, just be more careful in future. They won't put up with that in nursery," Hermione chided, picking up her daughter and carrying her towards her bedroom.

"When do I go to nursery, mummy? You told me I could go as soon as I was a big girl," she said, a note of pride obvious in her voice.

"Not long now, darling. Your first day is on Monday. Five more days."

Grace giggled as Hermione settled her into her bed, tucking the covers up to her chin.

"Goodnight Gracie," she whispered, kissing her tiny forehead.

"Night mummy," Grace replied, her chocolate brown eyes shutting over and her mind drifting into a world of dreams.

* * *

She took a long draw of her cigarette and blew the smoke gently, coughing slightly. Smoking was a dirty habit she had picked up just after Matthew's funeral. He would've been ashamed if he could see her then, that she was sure of, but he wasn't there. She knew everyone else was judging her too, but what did that matter? The only thing that mattered to her was Grace. A tiny, female version of Matthew. The thing in which he would live on through.

She looked at her empty bottle, rage surging through her. She felt herself becoming addicted to the drink only six months after Matthew's death. She couldn't bring herself to stop, not even for Grace. Drinking, to her, felt like coming up for air. It was almost as if, in that moment, her anxiety, the depression, the weight in her heart from losing her beloved Matthew disappeared- and she wasn't going to give up that getaway easy. Almost three years later, however, she still couldn't bring herself to stop.

She turned onto her side, stifling a cough. She knew if Grace heard, it'd wake her up and she wouldn't get back to sleep. It was those moments Hermione hated most. When she'd smoked her last cigarette, drank the last of the alcohol and was forced to stay awake with her thoughts. She tried to block them out, she just couldn't. No matter how hard she tried, the thoughts always got the better of her. She knew if it weren't for Grace, she'd have followed Matthew out a long time ago. But she couldn't do that to her daughter. Couldn't leave her orphaned. Or could she?

* * *

James Sirius Potter stared at the building blocks in front of him. He couldn't quite grasp how one minute they were a magnificent tower that he'd built with his own hands and the next they had tumbled down around him, one even hitting his head for good measures.

"Did your tower fall, mate?" Harry asked sympathetically, sitting down beside his son and helping him to gather the blocks up.

James nodded, still looking baffled.

"Don't worry, son, I'll help get them built back up."

"Well once you're done with at you can help me," Ginny grunted, pushing her way into the living room and dropping the pile of clothes she held in her arms to reveal a large swollen stomach.

"Just leave it sweetheart, I'll get it once James and I have made a tower."

Ginny shook her head good naturedly and ruffled her husband's hair. "I guess I can wait, you've clearly got important business to attend to here."

Harry laughed and patted her bum. "Ginny, love, can you remind me tomorrow that I have a letter to give Hermione? Someone from the Ministry gave it to Kingsly and Kingsly gave it to me to give Hermione."

"The Ministry? Wonder what that's for," Ginny pondered, beginning to fold the clothes.

"Probably nothing important," Harry shrugged. "At least I hope not."

* * *

"Smile, Grace. Grace? For the love of Merlin, will you at least _look_ at the camera?"

Hermione had tried hard to look good for her daughter's first day of nursery. She had dug out a pair of smart black trousers, a plain white blouse and some small black heels and had tried to tame her hair and attempt some makeup too. It wasn't very often Hermione tried to look good anymore; In her opinion, she didn't have anything to look good for. She was always on top of her appearance in the past, especially when Matthew was on leave. Looking back on it, everything she ever done seemed to be for Matthew. Well, of course it was. He was the love of her life.

"Mummy, the shoes are too tight," Grace moaned, attempting to undo the Velcro to get them off.

"Leave them alone," Hermione snapped. "I only got you them a few weeks ago," she lied, looking away.

"I've had them for ages and they hurt my toes," Grace muttered, folding her arms.

"Listen! I don't care if your toes are falling off! Stop complaining, just shut the-"

"Hermione? Grace? Where's my big nursery girl?" came a voice from the door.

"Uncle Harry!" Grace exclaimed rushing out to get him.

Hermione straightened up and wiped the tears away, making a mental note to apologise to Grace later and buy her new shoes the second she'd dropped her off.

"Not long now, eh? When're you leaving?" Harry asked Hermione, swinging Grace around as she laughed and kicked.

"Ten more minutes," Hermione replied, checking her old, battered watch.

"Mind if I come? I want to wave my girl off for her first day," he grinned, ruffling the squealing toddler's unruly curls.

"No not at all. Grace, why don't you go get your new backpack to show Uncle Harry?" Hermione suggested, indicating to the door through which Grace hurdled through in search of her new bag.

"How're you holding up 'Mione?" Harry asked gently after making sure the toddler was safely out of earshot.

Hermione took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm doing okay."

"I know it must be hard, but remember if you need anything at all, Ginny and I are here to help and if you ever need a night off, we're happy to take Grace... I mean, it's about time you got out more, maybe met a guy?" he asked cautiously.

Hermione laughed. "Harry, I don't think I'll meet a guy. Ever. But, thank you, and maybe I'll take you up on that offer sometime."

* * *

"She handled that well, didn't she? Went without a bit of fuss," Harry commented, playing with the zip of his jacket as he walked alongside Hermione towards the café.

"I expected mayhem," Hermione laughed, pushing the door open.

They sat down at a quiet table beside the window, hanging their jackets on the back of their chairs.

"At least it was quick and painless," Harry said, looking at the menu.

They ordered coffees and began chatting about pointless things- the weather, sport, Hogwarts, and whether or not Kingsly would be at the Ministry much longer.

"Oh! I forgot- this letter's for you, 'Mione," Harry said, sliding a white envelope across the table.

"How did you get a letter for me?" she asked, baffled.

Slipping one finger under the seal, she slid it along until she could prise the letter out. Quickly, she took in the bold, official print. Not even halfway into the first sentence, Hermione began to tremble, the words on the page becoming blurry and everything beginning to spin.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you okay? What is it?" Harry asked, evidently concerned.

"Grace," she whispered

"Grace? What about Grace?"

"They're taking her away."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hi everyone! This story will be pretty fast moving because I have, like, 7 weeks off and then I have important exams so I won't have time to write but I'm pretty excited about this story so I think the chapters will be pretty short and sweet and very fast moving.  
I would also like to mention that I love Hermione so I'm not writing her to be a total bitch, trust me, she'll come into her own pretty fast.  
Please, please, PLEASE leave reviews because I have a few ideas on the direction this story will take and I'd love to get your opinions and I always reply to my reviews and send a thank you message to as many followers/favourites as I can. Thank you in advance.

Beth x


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